Curls
by MaggiesWorld
Summary: One could say she made me love her. For how can one resist such a lethal combination that is knowledge and beauty? Yes I love her. SS/HG Tragedy/Drama Rated T for Character Death


I do not own these characters. This is a Snape/Hermione Fic. AU. The war has ended. Snape lives, Dumbledore lives. Therefore not fully HBP/DH applicable. Hope you enjoy it.

P.S. I wrote most of this while listening to Snape's Demise, The Resurrection Stone, and Lily's Theme from Deathly Hallows by Alexandre Desplat. I feel like this is a good soundtrack for this piece.

It had ended. The war was finally over. I knelt down to one knee in complete and utter exhaustion. Twenty years of labourous servitude had finally ended. I was free from the clutches of two masters. I was my own man again. I was Severus Snape, former death eater turned to the light. I heaved a great sigh, my elbow resting on my knee. I lift my head to see the stunned Potter standing in front of me. The same spot he had vanquished the Dark Lord not two minutes ago. No doubt he was overwhelmed as much as I. The boy had certainly come a long way in the last seven years. The trials he and his friends has faced since their time at Hogwarts had no doubt... Hogwarts. I look up at the old building; devastated from the long torturous night of rage and death. However, it still stood tall and true. It would need definite repair. Walls were missing, smoke was rising out of towers and up to fading stars. But it still stood, strong and true.

The sun is beginning to rise. A new day, a new era, a new life. New life... what a thought. Did I deserve it? Decidedly not. I deserved no such thing as happiness and rebirth, yet I yearned for it, I blindly grasp for it. My thoughts turn to her. She has been my salvation. No doubt the reason I am still here - alive. Hermione Granger, a student and warrior. The brightest witch of her age had no doubt had a slip in judgement when she turned her affections towards me. But how can I turn away an angel? For that is what she was; an angel who had saved me from my own wretchedness.

I stand shakily. My body is scarred and broken. Blood trickles down my skin. Yet I have not received the worst of the blows. I enter the Great Hall which has now been turned into a makeshift infirmary. Hundreds of wounded students, staff, ministry officials, some whom I do not recognize but too many that I do. Had it all been worth it? Was the fear and fighting over the last twenty years worth the pain we would all feel for a lifetime? So many lives lost.

But I have come here for a purpose. My eyes search her out. Knowing she must be in here mending a broken bone or administering a healing potion. One of the many potions we had created together this past year.

_It was in one of the many crucial brewing sessions that she had become Hermione rather than Miss Granger Know it All extrodinaire. She had shown a breadth of knowledge in many academia. She was breathtaking to behold. Her knowledge, her wit, and her grace. One could say she made me love her. For how can one resist such a lethal combination that is knowledge and beauty? Yes I love her. Had I ever told her? No, I did not need to tell her. I showed it to her and she showed it to me. She uttered the words so often, never expecting it return, yet I never grew tired. Never had words sounded so sweet. _

_There had been no intimacy we hadn't shared. I know her. I know her as well as I know myself. Every nook and curvature of her body. Every scar left from her adventures, every freckle placed upon her at birth. I worship her body. I have nuzzled every inch with my nose, nibbled every bit of flesh, licked every crevice. Yes, I know her. The goose-flesh that I draw forth from her with a simple whisper. I know how to draw her out and bring her to life. I know the sounds of her pleasure. I know that which, so help me, no man will ever know. I love her. Should I have told her a thousand times over? Probably. But now the war is over, she will be graduating and I have an entire lifetime to convey the depth of my affections to her._

Where is she? The Great Hall, usually filled with the aroma of delightful treats, smells of death and decay. I shall never forget this smell. I spot the the red flash of The Weasley Clan and the dark mass of hair sticking out among them, the savior Potter. Where is she? Should she not be with them? Perhaps she is looking for me just as I am looking for her.

I see the saddened family weeping over a fallen brother and son.

Where is she? I spot Lovegood and Longbottom. I slowly approach them. They look at me without fear or trepidation. the war has matured them so that they look at me as an adult looks upon another adult. "Have you seen Hermione?" I ask without hesitation. I no longer fear saying her name. Let all the world know that I love her and she is mine. The two of them only respond with a shaking of their head. I look away intent on searching the grounds.

I walk to the open doors of the great hall. Stretchers, loud cries of anguish, healing incantations surround all of my senses. My bones ache yet I push on. A stretcher is roughly placed down by the open door. The harsh noise of wood crashing upon stone inadvertently forces me to turn my head and assess the situation which caused the offending sound.

Curls.

Honey curls. That is all I see. I know. I would know those curls anywhere. The same curls that suffocated me in bed, that I caressed in front of the hearth, that glowed in the moon... Hermione. My breath catches. What is breathing? Can I still do it?I turn my body completely. The great hall has grown silent, for me at least. I no longer hear, I no longer smell; but I still see. Why do I still see? Why do my eyes show me his horror?

My legs somehow take me to her, to the lone stretcher. No one kneels beside her. No one has noticed.

I feel it in my chest. My heart has shattered. I stare down at the fallen figure below me. Her face is hidden behind curls. Please, let me be mistaken. Some other woman, a ministry official perhaps, has the same hair. A long lost relative she had no idea about. Yes, Hermione is strong, any moment now she will come bursting into the great hall with two hurt victims under her arms.

I fall to my knees. I don't feel pain as I land on open wounds and irritate broken bones further. Curls, a mass of curls cover the face of the figure I do not wish to identify. Let me live in naive bliss just a little longer. To believe she is safe. My hands betray me and reach out. I move her curls, so soft in my hands.

I see first her delicate nose, her cheek, a deep and muddy gash across her face, and then her eyes. They are open, lifeless. They stare straight ahead into nothingness. Once amber now are dull brown. I raise my finger tips gently to her eyelids and close them. I cannot see them any longer.

A one syllable cry escapes my lips echoing in my ears. I lean over her, an arm on each side of her figure holding me upright. I lift my right arm and take a fist full of curls. The cry builds in my chest. The pain too much to take. I bury my face in her curls. Her sweet scent still lingers. I cry. I let out a most animalistic cry of pain and anguish.

After the shame I feel at dampening her hair with my tears I pull away. I Look upon her sweet body. Her arms rest limply at her side. Her right hand hanging off the side of the stretcher. I take it in my hands. Her fingers are cold and unfeeling. I pull her palm to my cheek and hold it tightly to my skin. How many times had she caressed my cheek? How many times had I taken her touch for granted when I should have been savoring every moment...

I bring the palm to my lips and kiss.

The pain is unbearable.

I never told her I loved her. Did she know? Did she see how much I worshipped her?

I release her hand. So much pent up anger and sadness causes me to act.

I grab her body roughly and crush it to my chest. I hold her to me tightly, begging whatever force there is to let her death overcome me as well.I bury my head once again in her sweet curls.

So soft.

Something is pulling me.

A quick sensation and I am pulled from the memory. I fall back against my desk. Dumbledore stands before me. He has caught me once again.

How long has it been five years? No, seven. Has it really been that long? Have I really been able to go on living? Yes, but only just and at the request of the aged man in front of me.

He leaves me after a consolation and conveyance of wise words.

I walk to my potions storage and select a vial that is tucked in the back of the tallest shelf. In my hand I hold bottled death. But to me it is bottled salvation.

I retreat to my bedroom. I unstopper the vial and drink the contents in full. I pull back the comforter on the bed and slide into the sheets. My head rest against the pillow. I turn my head to the right, looking at the empty side she had once occupied.

I breathe..._One... two... three..._

I close my eyes...

calm

cool

_one_

_two_

_three_

quiet

_one _

_two_

warm

Warmth in my chest... I feel a presence against my body.

Calmly, I open my eyes.

Curls.

I Hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review. I live for them! Thanks so much for taking time to read this! Pardon my horrid grammar/punctuation and so forth.


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